Enchanted Moments with babes cim

Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and babes cim. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “babes cim” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see babes cim come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “babes cim, babes cim, fuck, babes cim!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “babes cim” release.